


Dean Doesn’t Do Chick Flicks, Crowley

by OntheMeander, rooneytoony



Series: A.Z. Fell and Co.'s Reluctant Counseling Services [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Supernatural
Genre: Annoyed Crowley (Good Omens), Bad Advice, Concerned Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Crowley's Bentley (Good Omens), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Established Relationship, Fix-It, Fluff and Angst, Friendship/Love, Horny Crowley (Good Omens), Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Naked Cuddling, Queen (Band) References, Relationship Advice, Season/Series 15
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:48:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27637756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OntheMeander/pseuds/OntheMeander, https://archiveofourown.org/users/rooneytoony/pseuds/rooneytoony
Summary: A perfectly lovely morning in bed is once again spoiled by an American hunter and his angel in need of Crowley and Aziraphale's advice. They're going to have to start charging if this kept up.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: A.Z. Fell and Co.'s Reluctant Counseling Services [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2016926
Comments: 11
Kudos: 208





	Dean Doesn’t Do Chick Flicks, Crowley

Blinding afternoon light streamed through the domed skylight in the roof of the secret upstairs bedroom of the A. Z. Fell and Co. bookstore, disturbing the currently slumbering mass that was Crowley. With a disgruntled sound, Crowley burrowed deeper into the massive pile of pillows and blankets. It took about eight to keep the old snake warm. Well, eight duvets and one heavenly plump and toasty angel was preferred. However, he was short one angel and that was a fair reason for him to be grumpy.

“Good morning, my dear.” A large warm hand caressed Crowley’s head, making his gasp slightly in surprise. Then slowly with firm pressure, Aziraphale ran his hand through Crowley’s hair. Those large fingers pressed into every pressure point along his scalp. It was divine, melting into a puddle of bliss.

“Mph, come to bed.” He refused to admit he was begging, just using all his power to make a sensible suggestion. “I’m cold.”

“My dear,” Aziraphale protested, but Crowley went on making plenty of whining noises until, “Oh fine, just for a moment.” Pulling back the covers, Aziraphale slipped in, still fully dressed, allowing Crowley to wrap his naked body tight around him. 

Perhaps it was a reptilian quirk, perhaps it was something more, but there was something so pleasant about sleeping with the always warm angel. The world started to melt away again as Crowley pressed his ear against Aziraphale’s chest. Underneath all that fabric he could hear the steady repetition of breathing. Miraculous how humans did it constantly, Crowley could never get over how their bodies knew to keep going, not a single thought wasted on the exercise. If heaven and hell allowed it, Crowley would never move from this spot.

Of course, just as it seemed the peaceful moment would last, there was the sudden sound of ruffling feathers, like a thousand pigeons had stormed the streets of Piccadilly. Crowley snorted, adding it to his mental list of evil acts to perform this month. Aziraphale, however, had it in his head that he had to investigate, pulling away from the nest and taking his delicious warmth with him

“Crowley, dear boy! We have company.” Aziraphale announced to Crowley's great ire. Damn, now he had to get up too. Slowly, with the petulant reluctance of a toddler, Crowley pulled himself from the bed. 

Before they could even fake the typical greetings, like for example opening the door, their guest materialized in their room. To Crowley’s apathetic surprise, it was the sad trenchcoat-wearing angel from America.

“I hope I’m not bothering you.” Castiel looked ruffled but exceedingly happier than he had a few weeks back.

“Of course you are.” Crowley hissed, flashing yellow slotted eyes with menace. Castiel flushed, finally noticing Crowley’s nakedness and from that point made a deliberate attempt to focus on Aziraphale.

“Dear,” Aziraphale gave a good-natured sigh. “Really.” His angel walked over and enveloped the other angel in a hug, which Castiel melted into. Crowley stood there glaring, noticing the way they both seemed to sink into one another. His angel must have been feeling something heavenly because as he pulled back his cheeks were plush and plump with honeyed joy. “What brings you here, young one?”

“I was hoping for your help... again.” They were going to have to start charging if this kept up. Not that celestial beings needed money, but it’s the principle of the matter.

“Of course. I do hope everything is okay.” Aziraphale instantly went into a fretting mode. Crowley merely sighed then sat back on the bed, crossing his legs trying to give off an air of being above it all. “Did everything go okay last time?”

“Yes! Dean and I are a couple now.” Castiel smiled. “I left him downstairs, but I wanted-”

“Dean is here? Oh, wonderful we can finally meet this strapping young man.” Aziraphale beamed like this was some preplanned family holiday in Bermuda and not a celestial home invasion.

Crowley noticed the edge in Castiel’s voice, “What kind of help do you need exactly?” 

Castiel actually looked flustered by such a simple question. Whatever brought them to darken their doorstep was apparently a bigger issue than a simple question of Kama Sutra preferences. The Supernova if anyone cared to ask. 

“Now, my boy, there will be plenty of time for that. Come now let’s go meet our young American guest. I treat us to some hot chocolate!”

Crowley went to follow his angel. Castiel hesitated though. He placed a hand on Crowley before the demon could follow his overly happy partner down the stairs, “Maybe don’t mention that you are Crowley...” Castiel flushed, instantly much more interested in looking anywhere other than Crowley’s face. “Dean has a past with...”

“That imposter takes my name and I’m the one who has to change!?” The indignity of it all! If he ever gets his hands on that imposter Crowley! He would beg for a holy water bath.

“Well, this is why you took up the name Anthony, isn't it, dear?” Aziraphale beckoned them to follow him down the stairs, ignoring the sour look on his demon’s face.

“He also thinks you're human,” Castiel admitted, Aziraphale froze. The pair just blinked at Castiel, who became flushed and fidgety under the scrutiny, “I told him Aziraphale was dating a human... like us.” 

Crowley hissed full out. First, he can’t use his, he shuddered, god-given name and now he had to pretend to be a little human. 

He snapped his fingers and in an instant, he was fully dressed with a pair of his darkest sunglasses with the biggest side shields. He wasn’t happy, but maybe he could have some fun with this. It’s not like he had to behave. As long as Dean didn’t realize he was a demon, no harm no foul. 

“Don’t worry Cas. I’ll play _nice_.” His forked tongue flicked out.

\--

“So, I see bad fashion is an angel thing.” The stereotypically rugged American man snarked. He stood out like a freaking neon light in the 18th century with his dirty biker boots and a decades-old leather jacket. He might as well have an American flag tattooed on his forehead and a hot dog in hand. Instead, he had an old book open.

Crowley couldn't tell if it was the insult to his suit or the fact this man had the balls to actually touch one of his books, that caused Aziraphale’s proverbial feathers to ruffle. Either way, he seemed less than pleased upon meeting Dean Winchester. “Do be careful with that, it's the first edition.” He sniffed, taking up that overly proper stance.

Dean looked shocked and studied the book between his palms “You have a first edition Malleus Maleficarum?”

“Signed and dated, so please be gentle with it.” Dean flipped through the pages anyway with less care than Aziraphale desired. Though if his angel’s desires were being heard the book would have miracle itself back on the shelf and Dean’s hands would have been temporarily glued to his side. The American seemed oblivious, or simply ignored, the growing annoyance of the bookshop owner, content to keep flipping through pages.

“Man, Sam would kill to be able to read this.” That made Aziraphlae even more flustered, Dean had inadvertently implied buying something from the book owner. Crowley groaned internally, Aziraphale was going to be uppity for the rest of the week now.

Aziraphale changed the subject with an innocuous comment made between pursed lips. “I am surprised you can read Latin.” 

“Comes with the job.” Finally, by the grace of someone, the American put the book back with surprising care and even in the right place. “So, these are your friends, Cas?” 

He strode over, all American swagger and slight bow leggedness. Holding out a calloused hand he greeted, “Dean Winchester.” Oh, with a smile like that this guy was a heartbreaker and knew it.

“Hello there, I am Aziraphale and this is Anthony. We are ple-” 

“Charmed.” Crowley quickly cut off Aziraphale to shake the human’s hand first. To Aziraphale’s surprise, Crowley was sporting a Scottish accent now. Crowley gripped Dean’s hand with just a bit too much strength, pleased to see the calculated flash in the other man's eyes. Always expect the macho American to size up his fellow man. “What brings you to our little bookshop?”

“It was Cas’ idea. Said I should meet some of his friends.” Dean said though the way he phrased it made it seem like the concept was completely foreign to him. Crowley didn't know if that was a dig at Castiel’s ability to make friends or about their own odd relationship. “So, uh, how do you two know each other?”

“We’ve known each other for years. Tell Dean where we met, Angel.”

“Well... you know dear. It was… ah... in a garden. Yes... And Ah-” 

“Yes, Kensington I believe,” Crowley took pity on Aziraphale’s stammering, “We saw the most beautiful black snake there and we just bonded over our love for it. Tell me, Dean, what do you think of snakes?”

“Snakes. Sure, they’re fine I guess.” Dean said in a tone that clearly meant he thought they were crazy.

“Well, I love snakes. I’m a herpetologist after all. Gave Aziraphale a rare black boa constrictor last year. He’s here somewhere. Where did our friend go, darling?”

“Let’s move to the couch!” Aziraphale quickly led the group to his makeshift sitting area in the back of the store. It was by far Crowley’s favorite place to sit, he could curl up on the couch, near the fire, surrounded by the plants he moved in and watch Aziraphale putter around for hours. Crowley grabbed his favorite spot, slinging his arm over the back of the couch to bracket Aziraphale into his side.

Dean and Castiel sat in the opposing loveseats, at a telling distance from one another.

“First, how about some refreshments?” Aziraphale snapped his fingers and suddenly four piping hot cups of cocoa were before them, complete with whip and chocolate shavings.

“Woah! Cas, you’ve been holding out on me!” Dean went right for his coco taking a sip.

“Yes, get one wrapped around your finger and it’s amazing the things angels can do for you! They can take you anywhere, heal you any time, and I heard some even freeze time.” Crowley teased, “But, I want to hear all about our special American friend here. Must be quite the guy to catch an angel’s eye.”

Oddly enough, Dean’s face became very stern and closed off at that comment. “What did Cas tell you?”

“Dean-” Cas tried to intervene.

“He hasn’t told us anything yet. Just that he wanted us to talk.” Aziraphale said, always the peacekeeper.

“Yeah, no. I'm not into this chick flick ‘talk about your feelings’ kind of thing.” Dean was instantly defensive, his lips stretched tight in discomfort, arms crossed. 

“Dean these are my friends. They helped me. You can trust them.” Castiel practically pleaded with the other man. Crowley shared a look with Aziraphale, they were quickly becoming the audience to an ensuing fight.

Dean’s jaw was getting tenser by the second, “We don’t have to involve everyone in our relationship. Besides everything’s fine. We’re fine!”

“Then why did you get mad when I told Sam we were together?”

“Because your way of telling him was grabbing my hand on a hunt!” Dean hunched forward, his head in his hands as he pulled at his hair.

“Couples hold hands,” Cas stated in that kind of way that a ten-year-old states their times tables.

“It’s too soon to be telling people. That’s normal alright!” Dean snapped.

“But we fought…” There wasn’t any anger or fight in Castiel’s voice. All that was left was sad confusion.

Dean however was riled up and his tone was only getting tenser, “We’re still figuring this thing between us out. We just need space. We’re taking things slow.”  
  
“I want to take things slow, but I also know I want to be with you...” Cas admitted, sounding vulnerable and young. “No matter how long that is. I don’t understand why we can't tell others…”

“Just because! I promise I’ll let you know when we can start sending Christmas cards to everyone and making a shared Instagram account and when we can get a goddamn dog.”

Castiel sat in silence, nothing would come from feeding the fight. Even so, Crowley wasn’t about to let it go. Maybe it was because of his demon nature, but he smelled fresh meat to tear at. Dean’s anger was an act to keep others from prying. 

“I think there’s more bothering you than that” He announced with complete confidence. Aziraphale gave him a calculated look.

“Nope! Not doing this here!” Suddenly, Dean was up, stomping back towards the front of the store. Castiel looked miserable, head down, staring at his hands clasped in his lap. Aziraphale stood slowly, making his way over to the other angel. With gentle hands, he patted the man’s back. He gave Crowley an imploring look. Lolling his head back against the couch, Crowley took a frustrated breath. Aziraphale was silently asking him to do something, but what could he even do.

This was getting nowhere and Crowley’s patience had run out. Dean was uptight, he wasn't going to drop his guard in this situation anytime soon. Crowley could start to understand why though, to be vulnerable when everything in life tells you to be tough was a big ask. Maybe if he met Dean halfway.

“Come on, Big Guy,” Crowley strolled over and landed a solid hand on Dean’s shoulder, steering him towards the door, “We’re gonna go for a joy ride.” Dean looked surprised at the demand but came nonetheless. 

“Be back in a little bit, Angel.” Crowley waved over his shoulder as he pushed the man out into the London streets.

With the slam of the front door, the two angels were alone.

“Do you really think it is safe for them to go?” Castiel asked. Aziraphale didn't look concerned though, merely smiling while sipping his second cup of cocoa.

“I am sure my partner can handle it. He is quite the wily old snake. Come, I do hope you’re liking the hot cocoa.”

\--

“This is your car?” Dean was stunned, taking in the glorious black Bentley. It gleamed in the midday sun. The beautiful mica paint job made him think of millions of inky galaxies entrapped within the body of the car.

“Yup.” Crowley smiled with pride as he patted the hood like it was a well-behaved pet. Opening the doors, they settled into their seats. Dean twisted around to get a good look at all of the wonderfully preserved details. 

“I have an original ‘67 Chevy Impala back in the states.” Dean beamed in pride as well, a man in love with a car. Crowley could respect that.

“I know. Your angel mentioned it last time.”

“...Oh.” An awkward silence fell over the cab of the car as Crowley got situated. For a brief moment, Crowley pondered if his decision to be alone with a successful hunter was a bad idea. He pushed that worrying thought aside as he wrestled his seat belt into place, best to keep up the human facade after all. It had never been used before and honestly it was amazing that he was actually trying to use it now, refusing to click into place. Finally, after a struggle that Dean simply stared and watched, Crowley was able to get strapped in and start his car. The Bently purred, radio instantly clicking on, energetic music filled the car.

“Queen, really?” Dean snorted. Bentley suddenly changed tracks going from unbridled joy to miffed aggression at this rude American's unsolicited opinions. 

Crowley lowered the volume and gave the dashboard a pat, trying to calm his baby, “What can I say? Long Live the Queen is kind of a British thing.” He slammed on the gas and pulled out onto the streets of London. The pair raced through the city at a calm 65mph, of course narrowly avoiding any pedestrians or other cars. Dean didn't even seem bothered by the speed, in fact, he sank into the seat and smiled in a way Crowley hadn’t seen him do yet. “So tell me, kid, why has your feathery friend appeared on my doorstep asking for relationship advice twice now.”

“It’s nothing. He overreacted to a small argument. I’m just not very good in these situations.” Dean leaned against the Bentley door, watching through the window as the city raced by.

“Romantic relationships?” Crowley inquired, rather surprised, he would have pegged this guy as a rogue casanova. However, Dean’s nod indicated that it had everything to do with his relationship with Castiel. “You’ve been in a relationship before, right.”

“Of course, but this is different.”

“How?”

Dean was silent for a moment. He looked like he was trying to grapple with something in his mind. “Most... All of my other relationships have been short-lived. Nothing more than a few months.”

“But you and Cas haven't even dated a full month yet.”

“Yeah, but I’ve known him for years already. We have been friends for so long. I’ve never dated a friend before. Hell, half the people I have been with I met practically the same day. I just... ”

“You're used to being able to go when the going gets tough.”

“That’s a harsh judgment of this situation.”

“No, it isn’t. I could be far harsher with my words.”

“This is why I’d rather use my fists to solve my problems.”

“I don’t need to know what you do in bed, kid.” Dean gave the most offended look.

“Fine fine.” Crowly laughed, taking a sudden turn onto the A501, “But in all honesty, it sounds like your past relationships were short and you could pick up and go whenever needed.”

“Yeah... comes with the hunting life.”

“And... what? Now you're freaked out because an angel can find you anywhere?”

“It’s not even that. It is just... he cares way too much.”

“About you? Do you want to know what he told us when he was here last time?” Dean shook his head no, looking slightly apprehensive at what his angel might have said. “He said you’re brave. Stupidly so it seems. That you care for your brother and others no matter the cost to yourself. That you just want the world to be safer... better. He thinks you are an amazing man.”

“He doesn't know what he is talking about.”

“You sure? Angels have been around for millennia, they have met many more humans than you have.”

“He’s too trusting.”

“To you maybe.” Crowley shrugged. He understood where the man was coming from. Aziraphale always had a veneer of innocence to him, that kind of shiny just out of the package freshness that people think they could take advantage of. Crowley knew better now, but even he ten years ago wouldn’t believe it if someone told him that his angel would literally go to hell and stare down a demonic tribunal. That was the thing about angels, they were like steel beams wrapped in memory foam. They seemed plenty soft and cuddly until one of them fell from the sky and crushed you to death, “Look all I'm saying is, if a celestial being says you are something special, I would be inclined to believe them. These are the feathery assholes, who sing for Jesus and whatnot.”

Dean sat there for a moment, glaring out the window like the whole city of London was offensive to him. “What about when I age. He’ll stay the same.”

“... That is true.” It was absolutely going to happen. There was no way around it, nothing was going to keep Dean from growing old. Even in Death, Castiel could visit Dean’s soul, as long as he did not get stuck as a ghost or reincarnate, but their time would have to be limited. Celestial beings of eternal life never mixed well with Death’s children.

“What about when I die? Then what will he do? He can’t bring me back every time.”

“Most humans only die once, so I don’t know-”

“Exactly.”

“But! I bet he’s thought about it,” Crowley continued, ignoring Dean's outburst, “I know that they seem naive, hell it’s practically a requirement for an angel, but they aren’t children. They know what they are getting into. If Castiel wants to be with you then he has already thought about that inevitability.”

“How did you do it?” Dean asked, looking at Crowley like he had all the answers. Honestly, it was a good week if Crowley had anyone answer let alone multiple.

“Well... it took a while...” Crowley rolled his answer in his mouth, trying to find the right words to form the sentence Dean needed to hear, “Anyone could have told you that at first, I didn’t want to love him. I wanted nothing to do with him and he even made my career life harder when he was around but... I don’t know. One day I looked up, saw this look on his face,” it was that small reserved smile Crowley loved, he was first gifted with its existence in Rome, “and my only thought was, I had to keep him.”

“You make it sound easy.”

“Oh trust me we’ve had some epic fights, years of being bitter toward each other.”

“Years? You’re what? Late 40s? How long have you known each other?” _Shit_.

“Oh you know, I met him in my university years.” Crowley waved off, needing to change the conversation. “We have been together for a while and if there is one thing I can say it's this. Live in this moment, because it will end. I’m not saying live every day like it’s your last together, but remember to slow down. Appreciate the quiet warm moments together. Because everything comes to an end. The good. The bad. The world. It will end so make sure you stop and appreciate the now. And let what happens next, happen. What matters is that you’ll do the next step together.”

“And the one after that?”

“What about it? It doesn't matter yet.”

\-- 

When they arrived back at the shop, they found their angels right where they left them on the couch. The only difference is that they traded their coco for wine.

“Cro-Anthony!” Aziraphale gestured with his glass, he had a ruddy flush on his cheeks. Looking like a Rococo angel in plump decadence. Crowley licked his lips in anticipation for when he could slip the angel back to their bed.

Castiel sat in the love seat, looking more relaxed, but still on edge. His glass of wine was only half empty. Before anyone could say anything, Dean marched over with all that American confidence and grabbed the angel by his lapels. With a forceful pull, he brought the other man to his feet and their lips into a tight kiss. Castiel practically melted into the kiss, his arms wrapping around Dean’s shoulders as he moaned. The couple kept kissing, ignorant to their audience. Crowly raised a brow at the blatant move before sending his own promising look towards Aziraphale.

Pulling apart, Castiel gave a breathless question, “Dean, is everything alright?”

Dean just kept kissing him across every inch of his face. On his brows, cheeks, eyes, lips, and in between he managed to say, “Everything is okay, Cas. I am sorry for what I said before.” They were going to be okay. Crowley could see that clear as day. There was no way a man like Dean, with that look on his face, was going to let Castiel slip through his fingers. At least not without fighting like hell.

Crowley clapped his hands quickly though, as the kissing started to border on the inappropriate, “Alright you two. I believe there’s an opening for two at the Ritz tonight.” He winked at Aziraphale, who made an effort to snap for the effect.

“I don’t know if that’s our kind of scene man,” Dean said, one hand tucked around Castiel’s waist, his free hand gesturing to his dirty jeans.

“Not you for!” Crowley laughed, pulling his own angel close “For us. Now go. Loiter a disco-tech or something.”

“Disco-tech?”

Aziraphale stepped in, every in a cheery mood, “May I suggest a visit to the castle of London, very romantic and a ghost or two.” That made Dean perk up, so Crowley didn't really have it within him to confess that the ghosts had left long ago, bored with the castle walls, they decided to haunt more posh residences like Windsor and 10 Downing.

After many goodbyes and thank yous, the pair was out the door into the London night.

“Finally!” With the sweet sound of the shop doors slamming shut, Crowley relaxed into the couch and flung his sunglasses off somewhere in the shop. 

Aziraphale placed his cup down. “That was a very nice thing you did.” 

“Angel, you know I’m. **Not** . **_Nice_ **.” Crowley hissed. He slithered his way closer to Aziraphale on the couch, pushing him to the edge. Allowing the gold to completely consume his eyes, he raised himself over Aziraphale, using his arms to pin him to the corner of the couch, blocking any possible escape. Aziraphale had the nerve to giggle at this threatening display. Crowley dramatically flicked a forked tongue, licking his way up to his angel’s neck. He even allowed a few black shiny scales to seep through. “Maybe I need to remind you how not nice I am.”

Aziraphale smirked, “I wish you would, you old snake.”

Crowley raised back showed some very sharp teeth and just as he was about to strike…

The flannel loving human walked back in. “Sorry! I left my phone-WHAT!”

This was very quickly followed by a trench coat angel, “DEAN NO!”

**Author's Note:**

> We back at it again with the Supernatural crew needing help across the pond. Happy series finale night! May all the fanfiction on this site help soothe any unanswered needs.


End file.
